


Heroes

by Trams



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trams/pseuds/Trams
Summary: "Some time after Billy met Goody he had asked about the bow and arrow. “You are aware we are in the 21st century, right?” To which Goody had simply smiled, looked Billy up and down, and said: “Says the man dressed as if he's just stepped out of a western movie. You look like you should be spinning a revolver in your hand, not a knife.” Billy had shrugged, and in a deadpan voice said: “I like knives”"~Or, The One Where Billy and Goody are Superheroes





	Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Back in, I think February, I was looking at Goody's face and thinking "his beard looks perfect for Oliver Queen" (which over the months turned into me fancasting Ethan Hawke as Green Arrow. IDK. It makes sense in my head). Anyway I wasn't going to write this at all. But I am stuck on a work in progress and really wanted to write something with Billy and Goody (but not the wip i am stuck on) but didn't have any other ideas lying around. So this happened.
> 
> I should say, no actual knowledge of DC comics is needed to read this.

Billy raised his left arm blocking the punch from the man in front of him, and with his other hand neatly left a knife in the man's stomach. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye he was about to spin around, when an arrow whizzed past his ear, signaling Goody's arrival. The arrow hit it's mark, a loud _“ugh”_ came from behind Billy.

“What took you so long?” Billy shouted. Before delivering a roundhouse kick to a man with a large tattoo of a sun on his chest, the tattoo only half obscured by a dirty tank top.

Billy followed up the first kick by dropping down into a crouch, kicking out the legs from under another man, this one a blonde wearing a leather jacket. Billy hadn’t even broken a sweat yet, the fight having started only moments before Goody arrived.

“Pile-up on the freeway,” came Goody's voice from above, bouncing between the buildings.

Billy didn't bother trying to spot Goody. With the many windows facing the alley, as well as two fire escapes, both with garbage stacked in tall piles on them, ruining their purpose entirely. There were quite a few spots where Goody could stand and fire arrows without being seen from below.

The blonde Billy had kicked was lying on the ground, and Billy threw himself forward onto his chest. When he tried to sit up Billy punched him in the face, before stabbing him in the palm. Billy had found that most people lost the desire to fight once they had a blade stuck through their hand, or any other body part for that matter - unless of course, they were genuinely invested and fighting for a cause they believed in, but that rarely happened.

Billy jumped up on his feet again in a smooth motion. He watched the _sun-tattooed-man_ stagger to the side of the alley before managing to right himself. He started advancing on Billy again. At the same time as a man with bleach blonde, almost white hair, the same height as Billy, was coming at him holding a knife. 

Billy twisted out of the way of _bleach-blonde’s_ attempt at stabbing him. He grabbed Bleach’s shirt front, and spun around, throwing him at the man with the tattoo. The two of them tumbling towards the wall. A couple of arrows in quick succession pinned them to the bricks.

Some time after Billy met Goody he had asked about the bow and arrow. _“You are aware we are in the 21st century, right?”_ To which Goody had simply smiled, looked Billy up and down, and said: _“Says the man dressed as if he's just stepped out of a western movie. You look like you should be spinning a revolver in your hand, not a knife.”_ Billy had shrugged, and in a deadpan voice said: _“I like knives”_

He did like the knives, they were efficient and silent.

Billy heard the unmistakeable sound of a gun being cocked behind his head, and he spun around.

“Bogue is going to come after you for this,” the man holding the gun said.

“Oh, is he? I assumed he'd have better things to do than retaliate just because we busted up a few of his drug dealers,” Billy said, voice inflectionless. 

He gave the gun a bored look before glancing around. There were two men left, but in the blink of an eye they soon had arrows, with their green fletching, sticking out of them. 

“You're hardly important enough for him to even register on his radar,” Billy said. 

Sadly it was probably true in reverse as well. Billy and Goody had been trying to get at Bogue for ages, but so far had only been able to send some of his drug runners to the hospital. A small drop in the ocean that was Bogue’s vast criminal empire. He most likely had bigger concerns, than a few of his drug gangs ending up in jail and hospital, especially since new ones cropped up like weeds every other week.

“I'll have you know-” the man started in an angry voice, but Billy wasn't paying attention. The gunman proving himself to be as moronic as Billy had assumed, as he was getting into arm’s reach. It also proved Billy’s point about this gang being rather far down the ladder in Bogue’s organization. He doubted Bogue even knew their names.

Billy was about to disarm him when an arrow burrowed its way into the gun barrel. The man stared in surprise at his gun. Billy sighed, and rolled his eyes.

“He does that,” he muttered, and then continued in a raised voice: “Even when I am perfectly capable of taking care of it myself.”

“You're welcome, mon cher.”

A corner of Billy's mouth twitched involuntarily into a smile. In a couple of quick movements he grabbed the gun, threw it into a dumpster; grabbed the disarmed gunman's arm, twisted it up behind his back and pushed him face first into a wall. He had him zip-tied in a matter of seconds, and pushed him to the ground.

“You sit there,” he ordered.

“Um, Billy,” came Goody's voice, still from above. 

Billy spun around and saw the man he had stabbed getting up. Billy took a deep breath. Of course they would have a meta, even his inner voice sounded quite done. The meta grinned somewhat manically, and pulled Billy's knife from his stomach, there wasn't even blood on the blade glinting in the lamp light from outside the alley. Most metahumans only had the one power, which meant hopefully this one only had enhanced healing, or whatever it was. But some, like Billy, had more than one gift.

“You could use your cry on him,” Goody shouted.

With adrenaline pumping, and the thrill of fighting, Billy pretended not to hear him. Instead he pulled two knives from his belt, and charged the meta who shouted something wordless, and ran towards Billy.

They met in a clash of bodies hitting each other. Blades striking blades with a sharp ringing. Billy let himself be pushed backwards, walking deeper into the alley as that left the meta's back open for Goody to use as target practice. Goody did not hesitate, arrow after arrow hit the meta, but he continued on relentless. 

After only a minute Billy had several bleeding cuts from where he had blocked the man's attacks. The meta in turn also had a lot of cuts from where Billy had slashed at him, mostly to his sides and chest, when he didn't manage to block.

The meta was not a skilled fighter. His attack more frenzied and unpredictable, leaving Billy to mostly try and block the slashes to his face and chest. He raised his arm blocking the knife, feeling it once more slice into his skin. At the same time he took a step back. His foot hit a patch of uneven ground. He stumbled slightly, and lowered his arm to keep his balance.

Next thing he knew a knife was sticking out of his left shoulder, buried almost to the hilt. Billy gasped, and bit back a cry of pain. Distantly he heard Goody shout his name, making it clear he had seen what happened. As his left hand started to feel numb, he dropped the knife and it clattered to the ground. At the same time Billy heard the sound of Goody's grappling arrow, which meant he would be on the ground running in a moment. Billy would have to end this quickly.

The meta reached for the knife in Billy's shoulder. Billy twisted to the side, pushing the arm away with his right elbow. Quick as he could be, he lodged his remaining knife in the meta’s eye. The meta screamed and stumbled backwards, both hands going to his face. Billy clenched his jaw, and grabbed the meta pushing him to the side so that he collided with the wall. This way when Billy let loose the sonic cry, he wouldn't accidentally hurt Goody when he came running towards them.

He turned to the meta, who pulled out the knife, the eyeball drooping out after it. Billy took a deep breath. The meta froze, staring at Billy with one eye widening.

Billy screamed.

The sonic wave that was Billy’s scream made no sound to him, but was devastating to anything in its way. It caused large cracks in the bricks of the building behind the meta, and the meta himself stood there for a second, blood starting to trickle out of his ears and nose, before sliding to the ground, looking dazed, he was still breathing though. 

His sonic scream could easily kill a normal human, at least at close range, where it would completely destroy a person's internal organs. He didn't like resorting to using it. It was an unfair advantage. Besides he had trained in martial arts since he was a kid, and didn't need to use it. Except for against people more powerful than him, or, more lately, when Goody was in danger of getting himself hurt - which happened a lot more often than it should. What use was having a ranged weapon if the man still ended up in hand to hand combat. Not that Goody couldn’t handle himself, but it always set Billy’s protective instincts, and heart, racing.

Billy sank down to one knee, a moment before Goody came skidding to a halt next to him.

“Billy,” Goody said. Voice filled with emotions, and when Billy looked up the blue eyes behind his mask had something wild and hunted about them. Goody crouched down.

“I'll be fine,” Billy said, at the same time as Goody reached for him, cupping Billy's cheek in the palm of his hand. "We should call the cops, and have them come pick up this gang."

Goody nodded.

"They are already on their way."

Billy smiled, and put his hand on top of Goody's before turning his head and pressing a kiss against Goody's palm.

Goody smiled, despite the worried lines still present on his face.

"It's only a flesh wound," Billy whispered against Goody's skin. Goody nodded and he moved his hand away to slide to the back of Billy's neck, a warm comforting weight.

"Come on, I'm taking you home," Goody said. Squeezing his hand lightly.

~

After a car drive, where Billy had to tell Goody several times to keep his eyes on the road, instead of shooting Billy worried looks every half a second. They made it back to the brownstone they’d made their home, and base of operations.

“You like knives, you say,” Goody muttered. He had finished with the stab wound, stitched it together without his hands trembling even once - they both had acquired a lot of experience in stitching themselves, as well as each other up - and was washing and taking care of the rest of the smaller wounds and scratches. Goody sitting on a chair beside Billy who sat on the gurney in their basement. 

Goody had inherited a fortune, along with the company from his parents, but he spent very little time actually playing the role of CEO. Focusing more time on making new arrows and fighting crime at night. 

The house had been his own at first, and he’d outfitted the basement as his base, with a corner for medical purposes, with the gurney, a tall chair, cupboards and a sink lining the wall. Another corner had the bank of computers, opposite it was Goody’s work station for the arrows. The middle of the room held the training equipment, and a corner had been set aside for Billy, and his collection of knives, and other tools as well as the closet for his clothes. Though his presence in the basement could be found everywhere, a discarded west hanging on the back of the chair by Goody’s workstation, knives hidden all over the place, _just in case_ , and a dog eared paperback which Billy had been trying to get Goody to read, by the computers.

“And yet knives are the only things that can hurt you,” Goody continued. Still muttering, and continued to dab at Billy’s wound with the iodine, making Billy hiss a little from the sting.

“Pretty sure one of your arrows could hurt me too,” Billy said. 

Goody gave him an unimpressed look. They hadn’t tried, for obvious reasons. Billy wasn’t entirely sure about the limits of his invulnerability, which so far only seemed to extend to: _can’t get shot with a bullet._ Which was quite handy when he often went into gunfights armed only with knives.

“Cher,” Goody said, on a long exhale.

Billy turned his head to look at him, and caught one of Goody’s hands in his own. His fingers calloused from pulling the string of his bow so many times the fingertips had started to bleed. There were small white scars on his hands from the accidental cuts and scrapes they both got in their line of work. And he was familiar with the larger scars on Goody’s chest, arms and legs, from his past. Billy had mapped them out with fingers and mouth, while in bed in the dark, when Goody’s breathing was evening out into sleep and he was relaxed. 

They didn’t talk about any scar specifically, much like they didn’t talk about the scars Billy had. They both knew of course, had both talked about their past, and shared their stories with one another. Their pasts were still part of them, motivated them, but when they got too wrapped up in their memories they made mistakes. Luckily the other one was always there to pull them back to the present.

“I know,” Billy said. Lifting Goody’s hand. “But I’ll be fine.” 

He kissed Goody’s knuckles, one by one, the skin toughened from the many times in the past that Goody had split the skin open on the punching bag. Hitting the bag over and over again until it and his hands were smeared with blood. It had happened less and less though. It was one of the signs Billy had picked up on, that maybe he could be good for someone. That he didn’t have to ruin the lives of everyone he got near. Maybe he could be a positive influence for once in his life.

“You have no sense of self preservation,” Goody said. Billy let go of Goody’s hand and put his own under Goody’s chin, thumb pressed against the wiry beard on the tip of his chin. 

“Oh? And here I’ve been thinking I had found it again.”

_He had found it._ He knew Goody didn’t think so. Goody worried and fretted, because all he saw was Billy being reckless. And yes, sometimes when the adrenaline from a fight was pumping in him, he did grow a bit reckless still. But he had gotten better at reining himself in, even if it was only a little bit. Not enough for Goody to notice evidently, but enough for Billy himself to realize he was less likely to take risks he wouldn’t have even hesitated to take before he met Goody.

“We have chosen the wrong profession if we wanted to be perfectly safe at all times,” Billy said. Thumb stroking Goody’s beard. There was more grey in it now than when they met. Back when Billy had been close to half dead, bleeding from a dozen open wounds after a fight against too many people. Except it hadn’t been too many because Billy had taken them all down, but it had almost cost him his life. Goody had nursed him back to health, first down in the basement before moving him up to the guest room - a room never used these days. 

“I know,” Goody said, a slight self deprecating chuckle. “I hope you will let me worry about you nevertheless. Because I don’t think I can stop.”

“I guess I can live with it,” Billy said, with a small smile. They’d had this conversation before, their responses just repeated at this point. Goody was sincere every time. Billy’s response crafted so as to not give away the real meaning, even though Goody knew, had known from the first time. But knew for certain after the one time Billy had actually changed his words to the naked truth; the truth that he hadn’t had anyone worry about him since he was a kid, and he was grateful for Goody’s heart being so big it could take Billy in, despite all he had done.

Billy leaned in and kissed him. Goody kissed him back eagerly with soft familiar lips. Moving his hands to Billy’s thighs and holding on. Billy sighed softly and pleased into Goody’s mouth. He moved his hand to the back of Goody’s head, sliding his fingers into soft hair at the nape of his neck. He held him tight, not wanting to let go ever. They had saved each other, not just out there in the streets again and again. He was certain that Goody’s selfless caring, and love for Billy, without ever expecting anything in return - because that was who he was; pouring love on to those in need of it, in a way trying to make up for his past - had saved Billy. A love that was unwavering, no matter the skeletons in Billy’s closet, which he had opened for Goody to see, because Goody had done the same first. Goody still loved Billy, and Billy loved him back. Together they had pieced themselves back together, and were stronger for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Billy got to be, sort of, Black Canary, in that I gave him her power (with an added extra). But he really doesn't have her backstory (closer to Huntress, except not really).
> 
> Anyway. I think if I were to write a proper (reader "longer") superhero au I would prefer to make all of them more original superhero identities instead of trying to fit them into the heroes of the DC universe (although a mutual did make suggestions for who they could be, and I largely agreed with her. Faraday as DC's Captain Marvel is the best thing I have ever heard).


End file.
